Michalis: Hero of Medon
by non-mistakes
Summary: He was a hero unlike anyone the world had seen, because in order to achieve what he had striven for, he had to sacrifice every single thing he had grown to love.


_He was a hero unlike anyone the world had seen, because in order to achieve what he had striven for, he had to sacrifice every single thing he had grown to love._

**Disclaimer: Haha, if I owned Fire Emblem (which I don't), it would not be anywhere close to as awesome as it is today.**

I first fell in love at the age of 15. No, it was not the kind of love that lifted your soul so that you soared, the kind of love that worked miracles or saved lives. It was the bad kind of love; the sort of love that destroyed, the kind that people tend to call an obsession.

When I was 15, I fell in love with my country. I knew that one day, somehow, I would rule Medon.

And I did, just like I had known I would. Some 10 years later, I was crowned for the Medonian throne. I was happy, sort of, but I could not fully enjoy my victory. After all, that was when my life really began to fall apart.

To gain the crown, I had to kill my father.

I would like to think that it was not my fault he died. He disagreed with my ambitions, and argued against my logic. I had told him that in order for Medon to grow, we must ally ourselves with Doluna. I told him that, strictly and firmly, as if there was no questioning it. He said that Medon need not be great. I yelled that Medon could be beautiful, and the only thing that was keeping her from being so was him. My father stared oddly at me, before finally telling me, "My son, you are blinded by your greed."

I had never, ever been so insulted in my life.

I did not want power for myself. I wanted it for Medon, for my country. Just as every single king or prince should! Is that so wrong?

I could not live with such a man—a king—that did not love his country as I did. I wanted Medon great, and my father was the only obstacle. I _needed_ it.

Pity was not something that struck me as my spear left my father's flesh. I wanted to cry, suddenly, but I refused to let myself. A country was only as strong as her leader, after all. I wish I could tell myself that I had wanted to cry because I had just lost my father, but that would be a lie.

It was because my father did not hate me. He did not despise me for killing him. The look he gave me was one of pure pity.

I loathed that.

I was supposed to be the one pitying, wasn't I? I was the killer. He was the man dying on the floor. But as he felt his life ebbing away, my father looked up into my eyes—straight into my eyes, for the first time in my life—and smiled.

The last words my father spoke to me where, "I forgive you."

And that, that was what almost brought tears to my eyes.

Now, my sisters were the only family I had left. Lord, I loved my sisters so much. Maria brought joy into my life, merely by greeting me or smiling or waving. She was pretty and outgoing, what every other girl strove to be. And Minerva, Minerva was my pride. Minerva was talented, almost as talented as I was. She made me feel special, the way she would watch me practice. I was proud to be her brother, and I would spear any lout who dared to say anything bad to her.

Yes, I loved my sisters, and it was my father who tore them away from me.

Or, I might have separated myself from them, the day I lost my father.

What I hadn't realized before was that even though Maria and Minerva loved me, they also loved my father. And when I killed my—our—father, I killed their trust too. I can't bear to remember the looks they gave my behind my back.

Had I gone mad? What had I been thinking? Who would I draw the line at?...Would they be next?

Minerva was strong and prideful, like me. She kept to herself for a month, and wouldn't mention the topic to anybody. If someone spoke to her about it, she would reply coolly that she "didn't know the details, and didn't want to know" and changed the topic.

Maria, however, I can't begin to count the many times I found her crying in the castle gardens. She wanted to appear strong like Minerva, but I could tell she wasn't the leadership type. She was too soft, too pure. She didn't want me to know her pain, though, so I played along. My guilt even stopped me from laughing when she mumbled that she had been admiring a pond frog as an excuse.

My biggest regret in life was not regretting killing my father. Not only did it keep me from sympathizing with my sisters, but it meant that I was no better than those bandits who lived off of the scum of life, and never felt remorse for their victims.

But my biggest regret paled when next to my biggest mistake.

My biggest mistake in life was not knowing when to stop.

At an early age, all princes are taught that your duty to your country is greater than your duty to your family. I took the meaning of that too far. For the life of my youngest sister on the line, I fought alongside Doluna. I gave up Maria's life in order to manipulate my other sister to work for Doluna.

I am despicable.

I guess I shouldn't have been so shocked or pained when Minerva rescued Maria and deserted me. I shouldn't have been surprised. I had practically asked for it. But I was a king before a brother, and I had gone too far again. It hurt though. I hadn't even considered that Minerva might betray me. Hadn't she always looked up to me? Hadn't she admired me? Adored me?

Lord, I wished I was as great as people say I was! A truly great man would have foreseen this, but no, I am not as great as my people believe.

I ruined my life on my own, for the sake of my country. I know that. I am fully aware. But I cannot undo it, nor would I want to. Medon is on her way to greatness. I am assured of that.

Minerva and Maria, they think that I have gone astray. They think that I have gone mad with power, just as Father had. My sisters believe that I cannot possibly save Medon.

They are wrong.

I am not so far gone to see that I have made mistakes. I am not so mad that I cannot make amends. I will bring Medon back from the depths that I have brought her in, no matter the cost.

No more can I see Maria's shining face as she greets me each morning. No longer will I see Minerva watching my every move in admiration. No longer is the Medon I lead...no longer is my country the Medon I once knew.

But she was still my Medon. And as a Medonian king, it was my duty to save her.

I had sown terror and death among her soils. I had helped that fiend, Garnef, paint in blood. I had ruined her.

And I would bring her back.

And to do that, I know what I must do. I will serve Doluna, but only for now. When the time comes, when the time is right and I am strong enough, Doluna will fall to Medon claws, and my country will rise.

My final hours passed so quickly. We were preparing for battle, but I felt as if I were flying without my wyvern, like my life was shoved into fast forward and I had no control over it anymore.

This was the turning point of everything. This was the battle that would decide my fate. This was the battle that would decide _Medon's_ fate.

I would not let her down.

I could hear the sounds of battle before it was in sight. The clash of steel on steel, the stench of blood seeping into the ground, the screams of attackers, the shrieks of the struck, the moans of the dying; all came rushing at me at once.

I saw the leader, Marth. I saw him. And I knew I could beat him. He was smaller than I had imagined him, more agile...but less powerful. Without his friends, he would fall easily.

I began to speculate how to separate him from his allies. If I could defeat him, if I could only defeat him, everything would come tumbling down in place. And then I saw.

Minerva. She flew at me, and on her face, I saw an expression I had never seen before. A mixture of sorrow, determination, strength, and pity, it was etched into her face as she gripped her spear.

Pity.

Not that again.

But I saw what Marth's little league of rebels had provided her. It was something I could never quite do myself. She had found friends. A home. Family. A real family, that would never betray each other. It was so much more than I could have done.

And I saw that Minerva truly believed that they were in the right, that _Marth_ was the one who would set things right. And I saw why, too.

That moment was the real turning point of everything.

I now knew what I had to do.

I knew it was the right thing to do. I was sure of that, more sure than I had been of anything.

I wasn't doing this for Marth. I wasn't doing it for myself. I wasn't even doing it for Minerva or Maria. I was going to die by my sister's hand because of my country. I was a Medonian king, wasn't I? I was a Medonian through and through, and at that moment, I knew what I had to do for my country.

I could have beaten that Altean lordling. I know I could have. But for his sake, and Minerva's, I didn't.

For my country, I had to sacrifice the one other last thing I had.

My life.

...

_Michalis: Hero of Medon_

**And that's my little one-shot on Michalis. I might be doing more, but I'm not sure yet. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think!**


End file.
